


Reminders

by Queerasil



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crack, Eating?, Friends to Lovers, Hiding, Hypothermia, M/M, Metaphorical/Literal Coming Out Of The Closet, Modesty?, One-Shots, PTSD Sherlock, Personal Space?, Sherlock Isn't Good At Being Human, Sleep Deprivation, What Happened To The Other One, shower
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-09-04
Packaged: 2018-02-15 13:51:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2231463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queerasil/pseuds/Queerasil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, John has to remind Sherlock to act human. (One-shots that get progressively gayer as the story goes on.)</p><p>Alternatively titled "How To Train Your Sherlock"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sometimes, John has to remind Sherlock to act human.

*

"John!" Sherlock yells, stumbling out of the bathroom door and around the corner to the living room where a bemused John sits, typing slowly on his laptop.

"What -" John stops short when he realizes Sherlock has nothing (literally, nothing) on.

Sherlock seems to be unaware that he is stark naked and dripping wet all over the living room floor. "Have you seen my towel?"

John blushes and quickly (semi)covers his eyes. He doesn't think he'll ever get the imagine of (that) quite out of his mind. "Downstairs. Laundry room," he mumbles, hoping to end this conversation as fast as possible.

Sherlock quickly turns around towards the door to their flat, but John grabs him by the shoulders before he can go downstairs. "No." John says sharply. "You are not going to be giving Mrs. Hudson a heart attack today, not on my watch."

John become briefly aware that he's grabbing his naked flatmate's shoulder, and that they're standing inches apart. This doesn't seem to phase Sherlock at all.

"Just... Wait here..." John darts away before he can look at anything important and runs downstairs. He returns a a few minutes later with fresh towels, only to find that Sherlock is sitting (still naked) in his chair. "No. Get up."

"Why?"

John is baffled as to why Sherlock would need an explanation. "Because I don't want your wet arse on my chair."

This seems reasonable to Sherlock, who stands up and strides across the room in two quick steps, takes the towels from his bewildered flatmate's hand, and strides back towards the bathroom.

The worst part (in John's mind) is that he doesn't even say thanks.


	2. Chapter 2

Four children and a nanny go missing. John thinks it's a tragedy, Sherlock thinks it's interesting, and Lestrade thinks it sounds like the beginning of a bad joke. 

They take the case. 

Three days and four nights of sleep-deprived, hunger-driven puzzle solving later, they find the victims safe and sound in a small cottage in Essex. The best part is that John doesn't even have to shoot anyone. 

The cab ride home back to London is tense. The otherwise beautiful day blinds John as if he's staring into the sun, and the simple act of breathing makes him exhausted. Sherlock is doing far worse, because he hasn't eaten a single atom in four days. He can feel his stomach grumble and it distracts him, so naturally, he yells at his stomach to shut up. 

John yawns and tries to be a good doctor/friend to his demented flatmate. "You really should eat... more..." John feels the world swirl around him into a relaxing sea of darkness as he blacks out. 

He wakes up three hours later to find his head on Sherlock's lap, Sherlock's fingers curled in his hair, Sherlock fast asleep, and the cab parked impatiently outside of Baker Street. The cab driver coughs and Sherlock pays him for the long ride before waking Sherlock up. 

(John never speaks of it again, but he thinks about it quite a bit.)


	3. Chapter 3

Somehow -- by some twisted miracle from hell -- Sherlock and John find themselves working a case in a strip club. 

They're sitting at a booth in the front of the shabby little club; John feels the beginning of a migraine creeping in on him as the bright and obvious red lights flash in his face and the music makes him wish he were deaf. 

What's weird is that John used to love these places -- back in his university dates. Him and his mates used to go every weekend and get wasted. But now, as John sits in the awkward little booth with his big awkward friend, John realizes he has discovered the polar opposite of fun. 

Sherlock looks oddly entertained by the woman dancing in front of them with lollipops on her breasts. John feels that he will never eat a lollipop again; not even on pain of death. 

Sherlock is finally doing something fun, and John should be happy, but he can't help feeling incredibly annoyed at his friend, especially when Sherlock gets invited backstage with the lollipopped stripper. 

"I'm gonna go," Sherlock announces as the lollipop stripper pulls him away from the table.

"Um... Okay... Bye..." John feels really, really incredibly awkward. Back in his uni dates, he would've cheered his mate on enviously if they'd gotten the attention of one of the girls; now, he feels sick to his stomach at the thought of Sherlock and that girl together. 

John goes back to the flat, drinks four cups of tea, watches a makeup show on the telly, and tells himself that this is what normal people do. 

Sherlock returns two-hours later, smelling like strawberries and covered in body glitter. He plops himself down on his chair with an exhausted sigh and doesn't say a word to John.

John decides to try to start a conversation. (Because that's what normal people do. Normal people don't get jealous.) "So..." 

"It was for a case." 

"Oh," John says, as if it makes perfect sense. That is, until he realizes that it doesn't. "What?"

"Lollipop girl. She was the killer." Sherlock sighs again and feebly attempts to brush the body glitter of his face. "Obvious."

John isn't sure if he's relived or disturbed. He decides he's a normal, healthy mixture of both. "Did you --"

"Fornicate with her?" Sherlock shudders and John stifles a laugh. "No." 

"I wasn't going to ask that." 

"Yes you were."

Yes, he was. "So, how did --"

"She attacked me."

"With body glitter and strawberries?" 

"Yes."

They sit in stoic silence for a moment until they both burst into laughter. 

(John is so, so, so, so, so, so, so relieved.)


	4. Chapter 4

"You need to eat."

"No." Sherlock doesn't take his eye of the Monopoly board, which stays, unmoving, in front of him. After much pondering, Sherlock makes his move. "I'll buy Monterey Valley for 100."

"It's 300 on the card." 

"Look at the state of it!" Sherlock points angrily at the small little doodle of Monterey Valley on the card. "There's no upkeep, and there's probably not even a water meter, and despite it's name, it's at least a 20 minute walk to the valley!"

"Sherlock, it's a game, stop arguing with the game." John can't believe Sherlock is letting himself get so involved with a game.

"No." Sherlock throws the board against the wall and stalks back to his couch and sulks, leaving John to pick up the scattered Monopoly pieces. 

"Freak," John mutters under his breath. Before he can stop himself, he gasps.

Sherlock doesn't move. Maybe Sherlock didn't hear him? 'No. Impossible. Sherlock hears everything.' 

The rest of the night passes in silence.


	5. Chapter 5

Somehow, Sherlock and John end up hiding from a serial killer in a closet. 

Absolute silence is not exactly Sherlock's strong suit. Luckily, John and Sherlock have devised a code for this exact sort of situation: John knows Morse Code and Sherlock knows how to interpret knowing glares. 

John gives Sherlock the kind of look that practically screams 'I bloody hate you for this' and Sherlock, naturally, smirks. 

Sherlock blinks 'N O T M Y F A U L T Y O U D E C I D E D T O C O M E A L O N G Y O U C L E A R L Y A R E T O O C L I N G Y A N D I T S N O T M Y F A U L T'.

John is astounded that, even in blinks, Sherlock cannot shut the hell up. 

John diverts his eyes, and Sherlock realizes that he must be uncomfortable. They're practically pressed together, and John's face is right is currently being smothered in Sherlock's scarf. 

John feels warm. Too warm. He hasn't felt this warm since he last--

Oh shit. 

John looks up at Sherlocks face and realizes just how close they art. Sherlock gets the weird impulse to kiss John and say he tripped, face-first, into the doctor's mouth. 

Sherlock certainly doesn't help when he leans down and purrs into the doctor's ear "I have a wonderful idea..."

Thank god the serial killer opens the closet door at that exact moment. Sherlock tackles him while John puts the cuffs on him. 

(What John doesn't know is that he wasn't the only one that was warm.)


End file.
